


To Serve and Protest

by Onehelluvapilot



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, Current Events, Gen, Police Brutality, Protective Porthos, Protests, Riots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:02:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24525082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onehelluvapilot/pseuds/Onehelluvapilot
Summary: Porthos takes a stand (literally) against police brutality by disobeying an unlawful order.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	To Serve and Protest

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I have not been involved in any recent protests and, as a white person, I have no firsthand experience with much of what is described in this fic. All of the details come from posts and videos I have seen online by people all over the country who have been at police-instigated riots. I understand that fan fiction is often read as an escape from the real world and also that writing about such important issues in it could come across as insensitive. My intention is to bring awareness to the issue (though I'm sure most of us are already well informed of it) through what I've always seen a powerful medium, since people bond to characters they know, and sharing this felt like something meaningful I could do without putting myself or my family at risk by going to a large gathering.
> 
> The violence in this fic is not graphic, but I included the warning to be on the safe side given that it may feel closer to home than normal.

Porthos threw down his shield.

"No," he said sternly, his booming voice carrying over the sounds of the demonstration as he refused the orders given to him. "I will not attack peaceful protesters." Treville grabbed him by the arm, pulling him close so his quieter voice could be heard.

“As much as I sympathize,” he hissed, “this is not the time, and I can have you written up for insubordination.”

“Then write me up,” the officer snarled back. “Because I will be on the right side of history.” He knew Treville was in a harder spot than any of them, caught between orders from the mayor (called “King Louis” behind his back for his incompetent wielding of authority) and a very different situation on the ground. Accordingly, he pulled his arm away from his captain more gently than he might’ve. Had it been police chief Richelieu in front of him, Porthos would have been written up for assault as well as insubordination, as he didn’t think he could’ve helped from punching the man who undoubtedly had given the orders to disband peaceful demonstrations ‘by any means necessary’.

“No justice!” The protestors yelled, half of them hoarse from chanting for so long already.

“No peace!” Porthos joined in with them, breaking through the line of riot shields from behind. He knew his brothers would join him, if not physically then in spirit. Aramis followed, gas mask in hand, but instead of standing beside Porthos he went over to the first aid station down the block, probably to offer his services as a medic and his warning that they should have the eyewash on hand. Athos and d’Artagnan stayed behind the lines but nodded their solemn approval to their friend. When police riot started, Porthos saw Athos deftly force the barrel of a nearby officer’s gun to the ground before he fired a rubber bullet that could have taken Porthos’s eye out, and he was sure d’Artagnan’s gas canister gun was cool throughout, never having been fired. As it should have been for all of them.

By the time Porthos and Aramis retreated from smoke, which would take hours yet to clear, the black man was bruised and battered from coming between both police and protesters and rioters and private property. Aramis insisted on checking over his shoulder, which was prone to dislocation after a bad fight a couple of years back. He felt his way around it more than looked, as his eyes were red and stinging from the tear gas. He'd given his gas mask to the head BLM medic so they could continue to coordinate relief efforts without their vision being blurred by tears.

They made their way to the Bonacieux house, where Constance had taken in dozens of protesters sheltering from the brutality-enforced curfew over the objections of her husband. The protesters, who ranged in age from 18 to 80, mostly sat around quietly in the living room or washed pepper spray from each other’s hair in the bathroom, trying not to draw the attention of the patrols happening outside. Some cops, their badge numbers covered by electrical tape, tried to get in to arrest people by claiming that someone at the address had called 911 and only Porthos going to the door stopped them from entering. He showed his badge and claimed the bruises marring his face were from rioters rather than the men who were supposed to be his brothers in arms. They didn’t believe him and a cynical man would say it was because of his skin color. Athos and d’Artagnan were believed when they showed up in uniform in the nick of time and the house was left alone after they came in. Some of the protesters were uneasy about having cops inside, but they couldn’t very well object, as d’Artagnan actually lived there, and if they had wanted to leave there was nowhere else for them to go. Constance vouched for the cops, and as everyone could tell she was an honest woman, they settled down, though some of them muttered “Red Guard” beneath their breaths. The name came from all the blood police had on their hands.

“Treville did his best to keep things calm,” Athos defended their captain when the four Inseparables finally found themselves reunited around a table in d’Artagnan’s room. “He made it clear to the men that they would face disciplinary action if they turned off their body cams and he posted a unit at one of those suspicious brick piles so the rioters couldn’t get their hands on them to cause damage.”

“Any news about us?” Aramis asked. It was obvious that he referred to their desertion.

“He said he might be able to claim that you were requisitioned by the EMTs for your medical skills, ‘Mis,” d’Artagnan answered, “And that Porthos was sent in as a de-escalation tactic, but I’m sorry to say the chances of you being thrown out of the force are high if Richelieu catches wind of it.”

“I don’t care,” Porthos said. “I don’t want to be part of a police department that penalizes my brothers and sisters for just existing.” They all nodded.

“Don’t throw away your badge just yet,” Athos replied after a long moment of silence. “I think many of these protesters might need an escort home as soon as curfew lets up in the morning.”

“Now there’s police work I can feel good about doing,” Porthos agreed. Their moment of peace was soon interrupted as gunshots sounded outside and the four officers, for however long they had left, went to do their duty, to serve and protect.

**Author's Note:**

> If there is anything you think is inaccurate or insensitive in this fic, please tell me.


End file.
